


(I Need More) Time

by Bluepaw265



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Has Issues, Angst, Cal Kestis Needs a Hug, Dreams and Nightmares, Eventual BAMF Cal Kestis, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Choking (Star Wars), Infrequent Uploads, Lightsaber Battles (Star Wars), Lightsaber Construction (Star Wars), Lightsaber Training (Star Wars), Lightsabers (Star Wars), Mostly POV Cal Kestis With Cameos of Other People, No Obi-Wan Kenobi's Were Hurt In The Making of Chapter 6, Obi-Wan Kenobi being Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Trying, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Anakin Skywalker, POV Cal Kestis, POV Darth Vader, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regret, Spoilers, Telekinesis, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22142836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluepaw265/pseuds/Bluepaw265
Summary: “There’s no time. There’s never any time. He wishes they had more time. To save everyone. To say what was left unsaid. To change their cruel fate.”Cal wishes they had more time. The Force responds.Now stuck in the past, Cal can change everything. They don’t have to be struck down by a Sith Lord on their own crashed ship. Jaro Tapal can survive Order 66. Trilla can be saved. Prauf doesn’t have to die.The Force has given him a gift. No way is Cal wasting it. But with a new, startling connection tethering him to his killer, Cal realises what he wants to achieve may not be so easy…
Relationships: BD-1 & Cal Kestis, Cal Kestis & Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Cal Kestis & Jaro Tapal, Cal Kestis/Merrin, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader
Comments: 156
Kudos: 428





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for signs of PTSD and emotional trauma, but that's nothing new to the game. 
> 
> SPOILERS for Jedi: Fallen Order. There will be many, so read at your own peril. 
> 
> I would appreciate any feedback, comments, or errors in this work. No pressure, though. 
> 
> Also, I don't own Star Wars, and I haven't taken this idea from anyone else on this sight. I will be merging my own ideas into this potentially long novel, so I hope you people like it.
> 
> EDIT 1: 7/1/20. Just noticed a couple errors while reading. Nothing much. Also spelt lightsaber wrong (spelt as lightsabre).

** Prologue: **

A loud, piercing screech fills the air as soon as Cal awakens, so sudden he must block his ears. It sounds like a mix between a combusting engine and a dying droid. Yet, the sound morphs into the yells of children and an alarm blaring so harsh his head aches. Splits. Shatters into thousands of tiny, insignificant pieces of what is and what was.

Metal fills his mouth, rushes up his throat, and Cal finds himself choking on it as the two diverging sounds merge and bend and tear themselves apart. It is so loud Cal can feel a thick substance trickling down his ears and nose, all his entry points bleeding as his brain attempts to combust.

In both times, where children are crying and a droid is dying – his droid, it’s his, but he can’t be, BD-1 can’t- – Cal is curled up on the floor. They’re both cool surfaces, both the metal of a spaceship, both shuddering under the surface. One from a shot engine, the other from thumping footsteps.

More screams and demands from both times leaves Cal seeing black, then white, then scattered dots that make more than blood clog his throat.

Cal retches, spilling more gunk over the floor. A kid cries in disgust; Merrin demands Cal to answer.

“I’m sorry, Cal, I’m so sorry…” The Nightsister’s thick Dathomirian accent is a whisper amongst the yells; Cal finally centres himself in the present.

The Force whimpers around him, mourning the loss of the Mantis crew. Through it, Cal can sense Greez’s body slumped in his cockpit chair, shot in the chest, and Cere, lying in the doorway of the Mantis, a red lightsaber tearing itself from her body. The blood staining Greez’s couch and the metal sticking out of it. How the cracks on Greez’s kitchen bench resemble spider webs. That the plants in the terrarium he lies against are all squished or damaged from Cal’s ungraceful impact. How the ship groans and shudders underneath him, moaning after the crash landing rendered her unfit to fly.

Heavy breathing envelops the room, leaving a sense of dread and doom. Cal can barely open his eyes, leaving only a small crack of Merrin’s bloody, tear-stained face to enter his view. “Merr-in…” A whisper is all he can manage, thick with all the emotion he doesn’t have time to say.

He tries to move, but he only manages a twitch of a single finger. Anything he tried would’ve been fruitless, anyway; he can’t feel his legs.

With a choked whimper, Cal watches the Nightsister tear herself from his side and launch a quick spell at the Sith Lord. Moments later, she files past him, slamming into the kitchen wall with a resounding crack.

He can feel BD-1 lying beside him, sparking and non-responsive – much like the Force within Merrin. The hole in his heart bleeds heavier, screaming at the loss of his best friends, master, pilot, and regretful for everything he couldn’t say to Merrin.

There’s no time. There’s never any _time_. He wishes they had more time. To save everyone. To say what was left unsaid. To change their cruel fate.

The Force responds, so fast Darth Vader has no change to counterattack, and Cal loses his grip on the present.

|-|

His head aches so loud it feels like it’s splitting in two. Yet, the background noise is not nearly as confronting and painful as before. In fact, all the shouts and screams have become whispers and quiet discussion.

A sharp inhale fills his undamaged lungs. Before, everything was broken – his bones, organs, muscles; everything. Darth Vader made sure to knock him off the rocker…allowing him to kill everyone else abord the Mantis.

Trying to remember how he got on the Mantis is like hitting a brick wall – maybe the overwhelming noises did fry a part of his short-term memory. Nonetheless, not remembering that sets his heart on fire, along with the knowledge that he’s breathing but he just died. _What the fuck?_

“Cal? Can you hear me?” A voice that still haunts his dreams asks, lightly touching his arm with his large hand.

Lying on his side, still curled in a ball, Cal opens his eyes to slits. Despite their limited vision, it gives him what he needs to see. Pink skin, bright green eyes, Jedi Master robes. Which are bloody.

He frowns, because he’s never seen his Master appear bloody before. Sometimes he’s completely fine, sometimes he’s got holes where his lungs should be. Sometimes there’s Cal’s lightsaber sticking through his stomach. Though that thought makes bile rise up his throat, he swallows it back down with steely determination. No, there’s never been blood before. And he hasn’t asked a question that’s full of worry, either.

Something’s different. Something’s…wrong.

“M-master?” Cal tries to focus on the Jedi Master’s green eyes, but his head pulses with a vengeance. Closing his eyes for a long moment, he continues, “w-what…?”

Jaro Tapal hushes him, squeezing his too small arm. “Save your strength, my Padawan. You’ve just had a fit.” When his green orbs skim over his face, Cal gets the feeling it was more than just a fit. His Master looks up as hurried footsteps echo through the ship, making Cal grimace. “He’s responsive.”

For a long moment, Cal thinks he’s talking to him. Then there’s two medics leaning over him, one checking his pulse, the other with a stim full of blue liquid.

The hand is cold on his neck.

“Are you still hurting anywhere?” The medic checking his vitals asks, typing away at her datapad every few seconds.

Her typing is loud; Cal makes an embarrassing noise that’s between a groan and gurgle. “M-my he-ad.”

Nodding, she informs him they’ll move him onto his back. Looking at his Master, he realises there must be some expression on his face because Jaro Tapal squeezes his arm once more before retreating from his sight.

Then, after getting into position, they move him onto his back.

Just that small movement sends sparks exploding across his vision and all sound is rendered null in his ears. It’s like his wounds from the battle aboard the Mantis are still haunting him, despite knowing there are no wounds on this body. In this dream. Because this must be a dream, right? Jaro Tapal is dead. But there’s medics about to inject him with that blue liquid, whatever it is, and when he wishes to lift his right hand, it responds in turn.

When he relived Order 66, Cal couldn’t control his body. Now, though…now he can. Moreover, this 'fit' never happened when Cal was a Padawan.

A small pinprick in his arm fills his blood with the stim. Its effect is instantaneous.

Sleep beckons. Before he answers, Cal recognises he doesn’t feel drugs in his dreams, either.

He closes his eyes with a sigh.

|-|

**Trust-**

Floating in the Force, Cal relaxes.

**Only-**

Suddenly, it ripples in disturbance, inciting him to look towards the commotion.

**In-**

The storm is completely black, a stark contrast to his blue surroundings.

**The-**

Within the angry clouds is a patch of white, only revealed when the storm clouds part.

**Force.**

And on that white stands a man cloaked in black, breathing heavily – the only Sith Cal could never beat.

|-|

A continuous beeping wakes him with a small jerk. “BD-1?” He whispers, looking around the dark room, but finds a monitor beside his bed making the noise, the only light in this room.

Then he remembers the Mantis. Everyone dying. Waking to his dead Master worrying over him.

It tugs on his heartstrings, the Force responding to his grief and regret, and all he wishes to do is scream and cry for those he’s lost. After all, Cal’s not dead yet. Maybe he was just hallucinating the Jedi Master…

Cal’s just about convinced himself when he spots Tapal sitting in a chair by his bedside, watching him where the light of the monitor doesn’t shine. The sight of his master swathed in shadows makes him startle, reminded of the lesson he learnt in Dathomir and the damaging words that felt too much like lightsabers digging into his gut. Reaching for his lightsaber is automatic, but fruitless, for his weapon isn't there.

There’s a curious look in his green eyes, but he doesn’t ask the obvious question, as if sensing his aversion towards the topic. “How are you feeling?”

Sitting up slowly, Cal leans against the wall. “Much…better.” He frowns; before, he didn’t have the capacity to take much in, but now…

His voice is high, as it was when he was a Padawan.

_Holy-_

Cal touches his face, then his forehead when he sees his Master looking. “Does your head still hurt?”

“No, it’s fine now. I just…” Cal struggles to keep still, brushing his hand through his longer hair, identifying the iconic Padawan’s braid. When a person sleeps in a dream, they’re supposed to wake up. But he’s still here, damnit. “I can’t remember what happened.”

He really doesn’t. When Darth Vader impaled him and threw him into the terrarium, everything slipped sideways. Time bent. Split in two, like his brain. Shoved him down two paths and told him to choose.

And when he chose the present, when he chose wrong…

The Force helped him chose right.

“You…you collapsed during recess.” His Master reports, leaning forward with a grim look. “Fortunately, there were other Padawan there who quickly reported it.” A heavy sigh escapes his lips when he sees this doesn’t satisfy Cal. “When I arrived, you were screaming.” He looks down, hiding his face in the dark. “You were bleeding from your nose, ears, and eyes. It was…”

Cal knows that face. Knows how he feels. Knows what he’s about to say. “I’m sorry for causing you worry, Master.” Bowing his head, he tries to bury the panic thrumming in his chest. “But I’m okay now, see?” For this, he looks up, holding his hands up and wiggling his fingers. They’re a bit smaller than his older self’s; the thought leaves his gut clenching.

A small smile graces Jaro Tapal’s face for only a moment before he’s standing tall. “We’ll see, Padawan. Now get some rest. If you’re not well enough, you won’t be eligible for the trip to Illum next week.”

His Master leaves the room without looking back.

 _Illum. The trip to Illum? I was ten when I got my lightsaber._ Cal runs a hand through his hair, wrapping his tiny braid around his fingers. _But that means I’m really in the past. It’s impossible, but…_

There’s time, now. The Force heard his wish and gave him a chance. He can save everyone, now. With his knowledge of the future, he can make sure some things don’t happen. Sure, Cal probably won’t be able to stop Order 66, but he can certainly warn people. Including his Master.

And if they land on Bracca afterwards, there’s at least one person there he knows that supports him. This time, he will save Prauf. Because his kind friend helped him stand on his own two feet after the horrors of Order 66. When he was at his lowest, Prauf aided him, and for Cal to repay him with death…

 _No_. Prauf won’t be dying this time. Neither will his Master. Or Greez, Cere, BD-1, and Merrin. He’ll try with Trilla, too, because she believed in them, in the end.

Cal lays himself back down, feeling his eyelids start to droop. Whatever the Force did to get him here surely knocked his body out of whack. It might take a couple days to recover.

_Well, whatever happens, I’ll be ready._

|-|

A hundred thousand miles away in Naboo, lying in bed with his secret wife, a certain Jedi General awakens with a gasp…and with knowledge he shouldn’t have.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal trains and gets an unexpected visitor. Meanwhile, Jedi Master Jaro Tapal worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the positive reviews, everyone! This got far more reception than I believed it would, so I really hope you guys all like this chapter.

**Chapter 1:**

Their doctors find nothing worth mentioning when they check him out that morning, giving him permission to escape. “If you feel that pain again, come to us.” They leave him with that message before he can flee the cool room, following Master Tapal down the hall.

“You must work hard today if you are to catch up to your peers.” The Jedi Master warns, voice void of any emotion.

Nodding, Cal tries not to shiver. Even wrapping his arms around himself does little to shake the cold. Cal’s not sure how everyone else is standing it. Perhaps it’s conditioning for Illum?

A Padawan they pass stares at him, seemingly unbothered by the cool air. Maybe this has been going on for months. Cal can’t remember much from the days before Illum, other than pouring over the schematics for standard lightsabers and his seemingly overwhelming excitement to venture to the icy planet. So, it’s certainly a possibility.

Soon enough, Cal’s standing in the training room, his Master standing in front of him.

“As I said last lesson, traversing Illum will require physical and emotional strength. If the obstacles in your path cannot become the path, you won’t find your kyber crystal. The same goes if you allow your emotions to consume you.” Master Tapal walks away from Cal, only turning when he stands on the platform right in front of the glass. With a twitch of his large pink hands, the Lasat is high above him. “Now, do what you must to reach me.”

Like his words were the catalyst, the platforms move to his teacher’s wishes. Wall running, jumps, and climbing exercises are set out before him, so that the only platform that hasn’t been moved is the one he stands on.

Cal jumps onto the first platform above him, heaving himself up. Then he looks around. Once he wall runs here, he’ll have to climb the wall. After that, there’s another wall run, then a gap he’ll need to jump to cross.

As he begins the course, the platforms he’s left sink back into the floor whence they came.

“Good.” His Master praises when Cal jumps from the wall and immediately wall runs to reach the next platform. A flare of pride almost has him missing the platform. “Focus, Padawan.”

“Yes, Master!”

It’s when he’s almost upon his master’s position, executing another wall run, when the cold suddenly settles in his bones. A choked cry escapes his lips when his head explodes, close enough to the platform that he can safely collapse into a heap.

“Padawan?” His teacher exclaims, surprise and worry leaking into his title.

“I’m okay!” Cal manages, forcing his hand away from his head so not to concern his Master. There’s enough stress on the Jedi Master as there is; no way will he keep him up at night.

Yet, as he struggles to his feet, his headache spikes, pulsing underneath his eyes. It feels a lot like the pain from his rare gift, psychometry, when the visions often left him puking or fainting when he was younger. Cal isn’t sure if all his abilities will be reset to fit the capacity of his younger self; before he died, Cal could slip into visions with a clarity and ease that almost resembled breathing. To him, anyway.

The cold still grips his bones, which has him shuddering under his Padawan robes. If he stands on this platform much longer, his Master will realise he’s not fine at all.

Cal manages to push himself to move, hauling himself onto the next platform with a rough gasp.

“How interesting…” A new voice bites, malice clear in their words. “It appears I have you to thank for my…restoration.” Cal snaps his head to the right, finding an unfamiliar man standing where he collapsed moments before. Cloaked in Jedi robes, the man’s shoulder-height brown hair shines in the extreme light of the training room, blue eyes cold and calculating. The lightsaber at his hip glints menacingly, and Cal notices the slight transparency of his body.

Cal’s never seen this man before – he’s sure of that. However, his words, that tone, this presence in the Force…

“No…” He breathes, body already shaking under the strain of this meeting. _That’s impossible._

Snorting, the body Darth Vader lost takes a menacing step forward. “If you can time travel, I, a being far superior to you, can to.”

“Focus, Padawan, and finish the course.” Master Tapal’s firm order distracts Cal from his visitor, leaving him scrambling to his feet.

“Yes, Master!” Glancing at Vader proves fruitless, for the ghastly figure is gone. So is the freezing cold that’s been subtly choking him all morning. Does that mean he’s been watching him since he woke up?

It doesn’t matter. Not now, when his Master is waiting. Now that the stifling presence of Vader has vanished, Cal can sense the Lasat’s underlying concern, only just peeking out of the firm defence he has over his own Force.

The former Jedi Knight makes haste to his Master’s position, finishing the course within a minute.

“Good.” Jaro Tapal nods, hands clasped behind his back. “Far better than your previous attempt. You are making great progress.” The platform they stand on returns to the floor, settling into its space with a small click.

“I’m glad, Master. My progress is all thanks to your guidance.” Cal tries, bowing, but his gut hasn’t stopped summersaulting since Vader showed up. Especially when he knows his Master can sense it. After all, his affinity towards telekinesis has always given him a better read on people than Cal will ever have.

True to his guess, his teacher crouches before him, resting a careful hand on his shoulder. It’s hot against his chilled skin. “I sense conflict within you. What is bothering you, my Padawan?” His eyes are full of wisdom and compassion; Cal bows his head, trying to will his throat to stop clenching.

There’s so much to tell his Master. His adventures. The friendships he made. How afraid he is, seeing his killer transported to the same reality he believed he could change for the better.

But…he’s not ready. Like the reasons Cere neglected to tell him of Trilla, Cal can’t bring himself to explain everything to Tapal, who died in his arms. A death that he made peace with, but now…by the Force, he’s afraid that his Master will perish again, that their fate is sealed, that nothing will go right. That by trying to make things better, he’ll inevitably make everything worse.

“I…I can’t, Master.” Cal manages reply, voice thick with emotion he should’ve conquered. “Not yet.”

With the unyielding patience he receives during training, his teacher only squeezes his shoulder once before standing, eyes glazed and distant.

Memories of Order 66 slap him in the face, Tapal’s dull green orbs staring into his soul.

He shudders and wishes it was because of the cold.

“I am needed elsewhere, Padawan.” His Master suddenly says, snapping Cal from his retrieve. “I do not know how long I will be gone for, so I ask you to study the lightsaber schematics I’ve given you.” After Cal accepts this task with barely contained excitement, a softer look graces his features. “Remember, I am here for you. If you speak to me, I will listen.”

Oh, Cal knows. He’s done so countless times, when he struggled with training and lost his confidence, or couldn’t understand his conflicting emotions. “I understand, Master.”

Then the Lasat is out the door and Cal is alone once again.

|-|

There’s a long moment where Cal just stands at the entrance of his dorm, staring. Like in his vision of Order 66, there is one raised bed to the back left of the room, with a closet wedged between it and the white wall. From the door to the bed lies a couple shelves, currently housing only a metal water bottle beside his bed. The back of the right wall is barren, but to the entrance lies a cluttered work bench, stacked with pencils, random metal pieces, various tools, gloves, and a datapad, likely filled with lightsaber blueprints.

Study. Right. Instead, his younger self tried to make one. It would be an unsuccessful attempt, he remembers, but it allowed him to learn from his mistakes and succeed in Illum.

Considering his knowledge on building lightsabers, Cal doesn’t need to study this. However, it might do him some good, to check out different ideas and improvements he could make to his overall style.

He certainly wants to make something like his old weapon. Two blades that are capable of splitting into two lightsabers. That’s the baseline. Too advanced, and he will make mistakes. Too simple, and he’ll be easily defeated by stronger foes.

Sitting at the chair to the workbench, Cal puts on both gloves before picking up the datapad, scanning the blueprint he was previously working on. A standard lightsaber; nothing special.

Swiping right, Cal looks again. A retractable blaster? No, he’ll have to get rid of a lightsaber. Interesting, but unobtainable.

Cal continues searching, finding a four-pronged spear, four lightsabers shaped in a cross, and a single curved blade, before reaching an available upgrade.

In the blueprint is a singular lightsaber, but with one much smaller lightsaber jutting out of both sides of the hilt. Because the energy from the kyber crystal is primarily directed upwards, the extra blades on both sides are far smaller in length and width, thinning into the point of a knife rather than staying round.

This is certainly achievable. By adding a hole on both sides of his lightsaber switch, Cal only needs to put emitters on the exits to create it.

Just this small increase in width will do much damage against more agile foes, while also keeping him safer from blaster fire. Cal knows that throwing a lightsaber with this upgrade will be far more devastating than without. With so many pros, why wouldn’t the Jedi use this more often?

Shaking his head, Cal sets the datapad down, grabbing one of the wayward pieces of metal. _Let’s see how this works…_ With a buzz of excitement, the former Jedi Knight begins his newest assignment.

|-|

The small transport ship hums underneath his feet, giving him suitable background noise to meditate. However, despite Jaro’s mastery of this technique, Cal continues to assault his mind. After multiple minutes, he finally releases his posture, giving up. The Force obviously won’t let him rest, deeming his thoughts on his Padawan far more important.

Specifically, the sudden change in his Force. Before, it was an ocean, moving to-and-fro in excitement and determination. Sometimes, a storm would brew when his emotions overflowed, or his frustration got the better of him.

Ever since his fit in the hallway, it’s been different – a tornado of emotion and conflict. Some don’t make sense, like the grief and regret he sensed when his Padawan woke yesterday. Yet some, like confusion and fear, do. But they feel…misplaced, somehow. The pain was real, he’s sure, but Jaro senses some of the emotions within his Padawan are not directed at what transpired in the hallway.

Jaro knows the presence he felt in the Force during Cal’s training was at least a partial reason for his fear today; it’s the reason he dispelled the dark being so quickly. There’s no reason Cal should be scared, especially since he hasn’t faced any horrors in his ten years, but something happened during that fit. Something that makes his Padawan an outlier among his peers. Fear leads to the Dark Side, after all.

Shaking his head, Jaro sighs. If his Padawan believes he can take this on his own, Jaro won’t stop him. Finding his own path is an essential part of maturing and growing into a Jedi Knight. Though the Jedi Master wouldn’t blame Cal if he talked to him, especially at his age, there will be a time when he isn’t there to help him.

The obstacles in the way will become the way; it’s an important lesson he must learn on his own. Not only for his physical path, but his mental one, too. This may be something he’ll need to push for the next few lessons. Maybe some meditation practice would do him some good, especially after his Padawan’s last attempt…

“We’re almost at the Jedi Temple, Master Tapal.” The pilot informs, snapping him from his musing.

Jaro hums in response, once again wondering what was so important that Master Yoda asked him to meet with the Jedi Council. He doubts he’s the only one who’s been summoned, but it still puts him ill at ease. They must have felt the same disturbance in the Force that he did. If they know what’s caused such a large calamity within the Force, Jaro knows he needs to hear. For his and his Padawan’s sake.

Soon they’re landing amongst many other small transporters identical to theirs, confirming the magnitude of the situation. He doubts it’s anything good.

Stepping off the transport, Jaro Tapal takes a deep breath, dispelling all thoughts on his Padawan, before entering the Jedi Temple.

|-|

When Cal flops on his bed there’s a huge smile on his face. He’s sure everyone on the ship can feel his excitement, with how it bubbles in his gut and sends tingles down his spine.

There was only so much he could do with the scraps he had, but he knows where and how to safely create holes in a lightsaber switch. Touching up on his welding skills highlighted just how experienced he is at engineering. That and how it had every stray thought leave his mind made stepping away from the activity that much harder.

Cal wonders if engineering is a sort of meditation. Though there’s no connection with the Force, Cal felt at ease, almost like he was indeed dispersing all unnecessary thoughts other than those related to the task.

Taking a deep breath, the former Jedi Knight sits up, crossing his legs on his bed. _Only one way to find out._

Relaxing, Cal inhales through his mouth and exhales out his nose. A rhythm is formed within seconds. _I am one with the Force, the Force is with me._ He repeats, once, twice, thrice, before everything fades into background noise.

The dark blue of the Force swirls around him, alive with conversation and presence. It leaves Cal’s heart pumping with wonder because the Force is loud and free. Not like the future, where it’s dead and filled with whispers promising death and despair.

Usually, he sits in this fog and breathes to centre his thoughts, but now…

A light shines in the distance, tinged more red than blue. In fact, there’s barely any blue at all, save a tiny speck that beckons him closer. It almost feels like the colours are warring, but with one so tiny and hopeless, it’s hard to tell there’s a resistance at all.

The light is mesmerising. Before Cal knows it, he’s walking towards it with slow, measured steps. His breaths become shaky as he nears, just like his hands. In fact, they seem a bit larger. Like before.

Stopping, Cal examines himself. One glove, his jacket, long scrapper pants, and when he feels his neck, the blaster scar he got from Order 66 is there. He can’t help running his hand through his shorter hair, feeling the absence of his Padawan’s braid.

This is him. Jedi Knight Cal Kestis, survivor of Order 66, forging his own Jedi Code as he discovers who he truly is. It’s premature, of course, considering what happened, but in a way, he’s still growing, finding his place in this new universe.

Hand slipping to his belt, there’s an overwhelming downpour of emotions when he touches familiar metal. When he unclips it and brings it to his face, the relief and love and happiness shines brighter, indeed seeing his previous lightsaber, equip with Cere and Jaro Tapal’s emitters.

He can’t help examining it, putting his finger on the point where he’d make holes on his new lightsaber switch. _Yes,_ he thinks with a smile, twirling the shining metal in his hands, _it will work just fine_.

The temptation to light it up is as overwhelming as his emotions, but he doesn’t. Why need to, when there’s no threat? Perhaps it’s his attachment to the weapon, with how much relief he’s still feeling at seeing it in his hands. Still, he doesn’t ignite it, instead reattaching it to his belt and focusing back on the light, which is much closer than before.

Taking a single step forward feels like he’s leaping across the galaxy, like he himself is planet-hopping without the use of a ship. It’s impossible, but time travel was, too. Who’s to say this isn’t?

The blue and red beacon is right in front of him, floating in the air before his face. Though surrounded by red, Cal can see how the blue flickers, pulsing with life and determination. It whispers to him, though the Padawan cannot hear what it says, even when he strains his ears.

There’s no way Cal couldn’t reach for it. It must be something in the air, or perhaps the Force’s influence, but the Jedi Knight feels the pulsing need to touch it deep in his gut, a roar that cannot be ignored.

Inhale. Exhale.

He touches the flame. Everything lights up. It’s so bright Cal must protect his eyes with his gloved hand.

As sudden as it began, it dies down. Before he opens his eyes, Cal can hear muffled voices and traffic, though they’re both somewhat static and hard to focus on.

He wishes he hadn’t, because there, lying in bed with his cold blue orbs staring at him, lies the Sith Lord he couldn’t defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If they're any errors, don't be afraid to say so. 
> 
> Have a nice day/night, everyone!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal and Vader chat. It goes as well as everyone expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the support, everyone! I hope I haven't kept anyone waiting too long. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

** Chapter 2: **

Cal didn’t expect the first words he said would be, “What the fuck?”, but hey. Maybe he should have expected that dark flame to be his mortal enemy, but his Master told him to _trust only in the Force._ Why should he believe it would fuck him over like this if it’s the only thing he can trust?

Of course, the Jedi-Sith – was he tortured like the Inquisitors, or did he choose the dark path himself? – only cocks his head at his vulgar words with a smirk that feels like a deadly promise. Without the mask obscuring his face, seeing the Sith with expressions feels wrong. It’s almost more terrifying than the expressionless mask, which is something Cal never thought would be possible.

“You are yourself…” The Sith sits up in the cream-coloured double bed only he occupies, and Cal can’t help but step back at the sudden movement. “How peculiar.” Cal doesn’t think he should be feeling satisfaction and interest right now, considering his predicament. They’re more likely the Sith’s emotions, with the way he’s looking at him, but that can’t be right because they’re settling right in his own chest, his own Force.

It's wrong, wrong, wrong. Cal hates that he clutches at his chest, that his expression says everything he’s thinking. “What the fuck?” And that he repeats himself, because showing weakness like this is dangerous in front of a Sith Lord. Why can’t he do anything right? “Of course I’m myself, who else could I be?” He tries to cover his previous words by making it seem like he’s talking about his confusing sentence. When his enemy’s smirk only widens, Cal isn’t sure he’s fooled him.

“To show up in your older body is certainly intriguing…” The Sith stands; Cal practically throws himself against the white wall in his haste to get away from him. “I didn’t think you’d show,” his cruel smile sends shivers up his spine, “considering your fear this morning.”

Cal growls, clenching his fists. “You don’t know anything!”

“Don’t I?” The current Jedi asks mockingly, narrowing his eyes while taking another step towards him. “I know exactly where you are and where you will be.” Cal vibrates when the Sith Lord stands before him; a head taller, Vader looks down on him, so close he can feel his breath on his cheeks. “You will never escape me.”

“Shut up!” In the queen’s residence on Naboo – how does he know it’s Naboo? What planet is that? _What the fuck is going on?_ – Cal reaches out to the Force. Instead of the Force push he wants, it wraps around his neck and blocks his airway – the ultimate betrayal.

Vader tsks, his right-hand tense in a gripping motion. A Force choke. How does that work when this is his spiritual body?

“That was not wise.” He states numbly while Cal struggles in his grasp, gasping for air. “You make some stupid impulsive decisions…I’ll have to beat that out of you.” Eyes blown wide, Cal tries to growl but gets a pathetic gurgle instead. _No way am I joining you!_ The Sith only smirks. “You don’t have a choice.”

His vision is blackening around the edges when a door opens and closes. “Anakin, are you-”

And then he’s slumped against the wall, coughing and choking so hard he falls onto his side, landing on the white sheets and pillow on his bed.

 _Anakin, Anakin. That name…_ His mind tingles, but he’s still hacking and every small movement hurts. It takes all his attention; for a while, all he does is struggle to take sufficient breaths.

When he’s finally finished suffocating, the world spins. Cal isn’t sure he can move a single muscle. It reminds him too much of his death and has his swollen throat clenching. However, with how dizzy he is, the grim thought doesn’t stick, sinking into the abyss.

Sure enough, Cal soon follows.

|-|

_Water. Darkness. As he sinks deeper into the ocean, Cal tries to place what’s missing; it’s so important the gap where it should be is sharp, digging painfully into his ribs and seemingly out his chest, into the murky water._

How am I breathing? _He wonders when he inhales, feeling the water enter his lungs but not feeling at all bothered by it._ This should be killing me.

_Like a dam breaks, his throat clenches. Caves. Shatters as a force far greater than his bone’s dexterity summons its strength and focuses that power at his throat._

_Now he can’t breathe._

_The water churns as he thrashes, hands automatically flying up to his neck to assess the damage, but these actions are futile towards his chances of continued survival._

_When his thoughts become as murky as the ocean and his eyelids begin to flutter closed, swirls of green dance into his line of vision. A pale hand reaches for his._

_Cal lifts his hands towards hers – a final attempt to continue living. Because he would for her. There’s no question about it. He’d continue living whenever she’s around. Forever and always._

_Their hands touch, and it feels like a shockwave has passed through him. He’s no longer in water, his throat is no longer crushed, and he’s not in darkness anymore. The only thing that remains the same is their intertwined hands._

_It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When they do, he immediately regrets it._

_Merrin lies on her back in the kitchen on the Mantis, blood pouring out of grievous wounds Cal can’t see. Crimson sticks to her pale skin, shining so it almost looks like a barrier between them. Cal doesn’t understand why it’d be a barrier of all things until he sees the lightsaber lying on her chest, sizzling in recent ejection._

_Kneeling beside Merrin, hand gripped tightly in hers, Cal goes pale. That’s his lightsaber. Then he finally sees the gaping hole in her chest, partially hidden by her charred and damaged clothing. Cal picks it up with trembling fingers._

_“I trusted you…” A whisper, a sigh, trails from his best friend’s lips, eyes filled with betrayed tears. “Why…why did you…?”_

_“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Cal cries, hand abandoning hers to reach for her face, where her hair is messy and cacked in blood that trails from her lips and a head wound hidden within her silver locks. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”_

_Heart pounding harder than a tsunami against a shore, Cal hears the familiar_ shriek _of an emerging lightsaber. It’s the one in his trembling hand, but that can’t be right. This can’t be his lightsaber. It’s impossible. His isn’t- it’s not-_

_“I…” Merrin gasps, more to inhale than anything, “I loved you…”_

_And now Cal’s finding it hard to breathe. They never said that. He’s never said that. It’s unspoken, one of his many regrets, and he just…killed her? Because it’s his lightsaber that’s bathing her in an ill-inducing red light._

She’s not dead yet! _“I…Merrin, I can save you! I-I can…”_

_“No,” the Nightsister answers, the tone of finality clear in her voice, “I will not…join you.”_

_Ice settles in his veins, colder than Illum, more painful than his death. At her words, he looks down at his chest, finding himself wearing the haunting familiar Inquisitor’s outfit._

_He can’t breathe. Everything’s shaking and he can’t breathe. He can’t- can’t-_

_“Goodbye, Cal.” Merrin breathes, before she lets out a long sigh._

_No Force. It’s left her. There’s nothing left. She’s dead. Merrin’s dead._

_He killed her._

_Cal screams._

|-|

“Anakin, are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks as they head to the Jedi Temple, filled with concern that he’d rather his former Master kept to himself. Trying to hide his dark aura is far harder than he previously thought, especially since he’s been deliberately broadcasting it all these years. It goes against all his instincts as a Sith Lord but revealing himself now will be far more consequential than pretending to play the hero. Even with his power, he knows he cannot face all the Jedi Council by himself.

Though it kills to admit it, he has much more to lose now. His body, for one; being able to feel it tingle in pain and touch is indescribable, and not having to breathe through a portable ventilator is refreshing. Every now and again he just relishes how he can breathe through his own uncharred lungs, the way they used to rise and fall before his accident. There’s also a wife he previously lost who is beside him once again, giving him the same look he once gave her. Sometimes he wants to choke her; other times, the numbness he feels crumbles and leaves emotions he doesn’t want dancing in his chest. They never stay long.

With these two things constantly on his mind, he thought the pain and grief was his. They’re so strong they leave his chest constricting and twisting; if he were a lesser man, he’d wish to hurl. However, having them hit him so hard in this small ship with only his enemy – now ally – Obi-Wan accompanying him is evidence suggesting that’s not the case. If they were his, he would have absolute control over these pesky emotions and his former Master wouldn’t have felt them, as his are tame and are crushed before they overwhelm him. Instead, these emotions feel wild and unrestrained, like a stormy sea.

They are not his emotions, yet they sing in his chest. He feels them like they’re his own, with how they resonate with his Force.

And that’s when he realises where he’s felt this before. Back in the training room with the Padawan, though he had to reach out with the Force to feel them, then. It seems that now the boy’s visited him, their bond within the Force has grown. Enough so their own emotions are broadcast to each other. Hmm…how _peculiar_.

“Fine.” He answers, pushing the unwanted emotions back to whence they came. And, even when the older man asks once again, using a name that brings conflicting emotions bubbling in his throat, he smiles. “I’m perfectly fine.”

|-|

Cal is not fine. Not even tinkering at his workbench is doing anything to help him relax. All he can think about is Merrin, so it’s no surprise when wet droplets begin falling onto the table.

Though he wipes them away, they keep slipping down his face, gathering at his chin.

Cal gives up after the hundredth time, still knee-deep in the dream. It must have been a dream, because she said she loved him. There’s no way that would’ve happened in reality. Though Cal’s heart aches for everything left unsaid, it hurts so much worse knowing that will never change. Not right now, eight years in the past with nothing to guide him.

Like a half-arsed warning, his head begins to throb. It’s not like Vader’s invading, not this time. This feels a bit kinder, like a warm hug.

 _“I sense your distress, my Padawan.”_ Jaro Tapal asks, voice flowing through his mind like a gentle breeze. _“What’s wrong?”_

Cal’s first thought is, shamefully, full of curses that eventually leads to, _has he ever done this before?_ When Cal thinks about it, he realises it was in his later years that his Master telegraphed his thoughts to him, mostly about a sudden meeting or event he had to go to.

 _Can he read my thoughts?_ Cal thinks, feeling himself freeze. If he could, there’s a chance he’ll figure out something’s wrong with him, and the former Jedi Knight isn’t sure he can handle that.

A laugh rumbles through their link, making Cal smile despite himself. _“No, Padawan, I cannot read your thoughts. It requires the other’s consent, or a great amount of power.”_

“And you just guessed I was thinking that?” Cal says aloud, wiping his tears off his face. Any memories of doing this are fuzzy, but if his Master can’t read his thoughts, then...

 _“All Padawans ask the same question.”_ Master Tapal answers, before being silent for a few moments. _“Do you wish to talk about it?”_

Well, his Master may have said he can’t hear his thoughts, but Cal’s certain he can feel his emotions. He wouldn’t have reached out through the Force if he couldn’t. Either way, Cal telegraphs the warmth in his chest, the gratitude, and, unfortunately, the pain still lingering deep in his fractured heart.

“I think I’ll be okay, Master.” He says, lying through his teeth even when the guilt settles in his throat. “It was just a dream.” _Stupid_ doesn’t exit his mouth; Cal doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say _it’s a stupid dream_ in this case. Mainly because of Merrin and what she said, and what Vader promised just before he passed out.

Cal can’t let it come true. Becoming Vader’s lackey is not an option. He has people to save, events to screw up; there’s no way he will allow the most horrifying Force-user in the Galaxy to change that.

A semi-hopeful, semi-fearful resolve settles under his skin. This is a promise he intends to keep. Not just for himself, but for everyone he cares about.

 _“Did you decide on a specific lightsaber, Padawan?”_ Jaro Tapal asks after a few moments; Cal doesn’t doubt he’s felt the change within him.

Cal doesn’t mind the distraction, letting his hands wander to his data pad. “Yes, Master. I’ve been thinking about making the crossguard lightsaber.”

This time, it’s Cal that feels emotions flow through the Force. Interest, pride, and…confusion?

_“What’s made you want this lightsaber, Padawan?”_

“Uh…” Geez, this is a loaded question. Cal isn’t even sure if he’s supposed to know Force Pull and Push yet. And he shouldn’t know any fundamentals about combat, either; that all starts once he gets his lightsaber. Damn. “I’m not sure, Master.” He says, cringing because that doesn’t sound convincing to him, either.

The Force belonging to his Master rumbles, leaking some more confusion and…oh, by the Force he hopes that’s not disapproval. And angry Tapal means exhausted Cal. Exhausted Cal equals mistakes. In his situation, it’s not good at all.

 _“I’ll be back this afternoon in time for your training.”_ His Master informs him, distant. That’s never a nice sign. _“Try to get some more sleep, Padawan.”_

“Yes, Master!” Is confirmed, even though he knows he won’t sleep. Geez, he’s lying out his teeth today.

The connection disintegrates. His watch reads exactly 2am.

Staring at his desk, Cal sighs. _Well, this’ll be a long night._ That’s when Cal realises he doesn’t know when afternoon training is. _And a longer day._


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tapal isn’t happy. Cal pays the consequences. 
> 
> Meanwhile, Vader gets a new assignment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No excuses, just a horrid author leaving readers on cliffhangers because of time spent elsewhere. Like playing Assassin's Creed: Odessey and reading 2 books. + real life. It's honestly me just neglecting writing for a couple months. 
> 
> But I reckon Cornoavirus is making us authors do something with our lives again. At least it's making all us readers happy :)

** Chapter 3: **

Unfortunately, his intuition is correct. Staying up late is the worst thing he could’ve done, but he reasoned that he could find out what his past self should and shouldn’t know. Of course, it was as much an escape from sleep as a proper excuse, but Cal was determined not to think about it.

It takes him an hour to find his personal datapad, but when he does a password jumps onto the blue screen. Cal should know it like the Droid language, but it slips from his parted fingers like water. There are things his younger self would never forget, things that bled into his current identity. This password is one he used countless times, mumbled in his sleep, cherished and cursed on Bracca.

And yet…and yet he can’t remember. Ever since he travelled back in time everything’s been muddled, like there’s mud on the windscreen and he can’t scrub it off, no matter how hard to rubs. He’s been trying to ignore it, trying to think it’s his Master presence, the lightness in the Force, and Vader. But he’s kidding himself, because he knows the Sith Lord’s name and he can’t place it – a wrongness that feels as harrowing as his forgotten password.

Cal sighs, rubbing his eyes, before deciding to hack his datapad and do what he does best: run from his problems.

|-|

Of course, Cal should’ve known this would happen. Falling asleep at his desk was practically a guaranteed with how drained he was and really, disobeying his Master’s order to sleep was bound to bite him in the arse.

Now he’s sore, tired, and panicked, racing around a ship he should know like the basic moves in Jedi training but doesn’t. It’s like there’s this disjointed connection in his brain, where a plug doesn’t fit into its socket and his mind is doing everything it can to function without it. But it’s not gaining anything it’s lost, and that leaves Cal running through the halls, desperately trying to figure out where he is.

Cal’s lost and he hates it. Especially since it’s four in the afternoon and his Master is waiting, he can feel it, and he doesn’t want to disappoint him, not when he’s alive again. Not since Cal’s terrible mistake has been cancelled out by the jump in time.

Sliding down a white wall, the former Jedi Knight holds his head with a hand, squeezing his eyes shut. _Calm down_. He tries, but it’s useless when his heart is beating so fast his lungs are on fire. When he can’t breathe.

There shouldn’t be any reason for a panic attack, not when nothing is really wrong, but there’s so much on his mind. Maybe it’s the stress that’s tearing him apart like a Cutter when demolishing a ship. With the dreams, Vader, and memory problems, Cal’s surprised this hasn’t hit him sooner. He wishes it did, because it has the worst timing.

On Bracca, when these mental attacks were frequent enough to hinder any attempt at normality, Cal had to learn how to push past them and breathe. Prauf was there most of the time, helping him with his mere presence, and even when he was on his adventures with Cere and Greez, BD-1 was always there to comfort him.

It feels foreign, to be alone like this, and the realisation feels like a lightsaber in his side. Even though there’s more presence in the Force than he remembers, even with his late Master teaching him, even when he’s on a ship full of friendly medics and Force-sensitives…Cal still feels so very alone.

Just as despair starts to strangle him, a gentle voice asks above him, “are you okay?”

When he finds the strength to look up, a small brunet with freckles stares back with bright blue eyes, padawan robes neat and pristine. He tries to speak but can’t, finding breathing more important.

She seems to understand when he flashes her a simple panicked look. However, when she moves to get help, he grabs her pale wrist and squeezes. _Don’t leave me alone._

There’s light resistance, sure, but she’s freakily perceptive. The Padawan sits by his side and breathes with him until he can finally find a rhythm, a pattern he can follow.

When he knows the attack has passed, he eases his grip on her wrist with a sigh. “Thanks.” _For being here. For helping me. For not ignoring my suffering._

“No problem.” She simply says, smiling a toothy grin. “It was all you, anyway.” That entices an eyebrow lift, but she barges right on through his unasked question. “You seem to be better now, so…what’s up?”

There’s so much he wants to say, but he can’t think too hard when he’s still dizzy from his panic attack. “I’m lost.”

Standing quickly, she offers him her hand. “I can help with that.”

|-|

After a couple enquiries, Cal is finally standing in front of the training room his Master is in. He turns to the girl he still hasn’t learnt the name of with gratitude. “Thanks so much…?”

She grins, holding out a hand. “Tali.” They shake. She tilts her head towards the door. “You’d better get in there; I can feel his frustration from here!”

“Yeah…” He mumbles with a frown. “I’m Cal by the way. I hope we meet again sometime!” Then he’s racing through the doors and into the middle of the training room, where Master Tapal sits cross-legged. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Master!”

Just by the look in his icy orbs, Cal knows he’s not going to like this.

|-|

He misses recess, then dinner, then showers. Tapal doesn’t just work him to exhaustion, it’s to near death.

Now, Cal is barely standing upright, a standard blue lightsaber in his hand. On the other side of the arena is his Master, barely sweating, hands on his own blue lightsabre. It still has only one blade, not the two he uses for worthy foes, but Cal can feel his Master’s simmering anger.

There’s only a matter of time until Jaro Tapal cracks.

Cal doesn’t know how much longer he can take this onslaught, either.

“Focus, Padawan!” His Master yells, before throwing his lightsaber towards him. “A Jedi may need to fight for an unprecedented amount of time.” Narrowly deflecting it, Cal grunts at the strain in his muscles. This encounter is starting to feel far too much like Trilla in the Inquisitor’s base – too much like the crippling fear when Darth Vader’s breaths enveloped the room, thick with his sheer power in the Dark Side.

By the time he realises his Master has yelled at him again, Cal’s flinging himself backwards to avoid being beheaded. There’s no time to rise to his feet, for the Lasat’s lightsaber is bearing down on him and Cal’s only choice is to block it in a crouch.

The force of the attack makes his arms shake and knees creak. His Master’s face is illuminated in the blue light of their clash, and Cal feels his heart jump painfully; he looks far too much like the Tapal in his dreams, demanding he accept his failure and self-hatred. To use the Dark Side.

Cal feels his throat clench. Swallowing becomes difficult.

 _Back. Get back!_ When his hand outstretches, the Force hugs him in welcome, allowing him to utilise it to push his Master away.

His Master stumbles backward, blue lightsaber flying out his meaty hands. Not a moment later, Tapal swipes his hand down and the deadly weapon catapults towards Cal.

Flipping backwards, Cal still struggles to breathe. Even as the lightsaber sails beneath him and he lands on the tiles, it follows him like a robot companion, never leaving, never unreliable, never plotting against him.

_Like BD-1._

A switch flips. He goes white – _can’t breathe, can’t breathe_ – and his Master’s lightsaber charges. Yet, there’s an aura around it, like the world’s blackened out and all he can see is the weapon and the shimmering purple light around it. Cal suddenly knows he can manipulate it. Change its course to fly back to its wielder, make sure it digs into their chest and doesn’t come back out.

_Wait, wait. No. That- no. I can, I can-_

The lightsaber’s a metre from his face.

 _Push_. Hand outstretched, eyes wide in focus, Cal wills the Force around the blade to _listen_.

It does. Instead of flying straight back, it goes at a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree angle – straight towards his Master. Faster than a blaster. Double that.

Cal inhales sharply and lets go of the lightsaber’s Force. It hovers just before the tip of Jaro Tapal’s nose and stays there. No more tricks. Just an unsteady, tense pause.

 _Is it over?_ He wonders, watching his Master stare at his lightsaber while Cal pants, sweat trickling down his face. _Please let it be over._

Suddenly, Cal’s borrowed lightsaber flings out his hands, landing in Tapal’s waiting hand. “Good work, Padawan. You have earnt your rest.” He nods towards the door. “You may leave.”

For a moment, Cal ponders why his Master stopped so abruptly, why he’s so dismissive. Then he remembers what getting answers from Tapal when he has these moments is like and leaves with a respectful bow.

A shower sounds so much better.

|-|

Jaro Tapal stares at his lightsaber, mouth pulled taut in thought. For a second there, something chilling was in the room. Something powerful. Something that encouraged his Padawan to use the Force. The side no Jedi uses.

Maybe he should feel glad his Padawan didn’t take the opportunity, especially with the growing conflict within his Force. However, Tapal can hear the Council’s order in his head, warning all Masters to report any suspicious activities to them regarding the ripple in the Force.

It hasn’t even been three days, yet the Lasat suspects his Padawan has been affected by it. The change within his Force, his fit the moment it happened, his sudden forgetfulness about training…

The Jedi Master ponders.

|-|

Vader has the sudden urge to laugh, but he can’t without seeming suspicious before the Jedi Council. Instead, he and Obi Wan bow and retreat to their ship, ready to embark on their latest assignment.

_“Find the cause of the ripple within the Force.”_

Despite the irony, this is an opportunity. The potential this mission has is astounding. After all, he has ample access to all Jedi ships, as per the Council’s orders.

That includes one slowly crawling towards Illum, housing one of the only Jedi who has escaped his grasp.

 _This time,_ he thinks darkly while Obi Wan powers up the ship, _you will not escape me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Cal goes to have a shower and realises they're all closed :) Dunno about you, but I have no idea about massive ships; do you guys think there is a showering schedule?
> 
> Here's another: When Tapal has an aneurism because of Cal's damaged goods :( sorry, imma debbie downer.
> 
> Ooh: When Vader laughs and it sends Obi Wan into a cold sweat. :\ calling medium ground there haha. Anybody got any others?
> 
> Also: literally flying by by the nails on my fingers. Plot is coming to me in waves after chapters. Don't really know what I'm doing, so any ideas + help would be amazing! ...only if you wanna, though. 
> 
> ALSO! The Clone Wars is not here yet. Hence why there aren't any Clones yet. But very soon, the war will commence...and I will need to watch some Star Wars: The Clone Wars for ideas...*sigh*...
> 
> Thanks so much for sticking close to this story! And be safe, people!


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When another haunting dream incapacitates Cal, Master Tapal is there to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took longer then expected, but worry not! I have a clear idea for the next chapter, so that should be out within the month. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support, guys! I really appreciate every read, comment, and bookmark. All you guys are awesome!
> 
> Please, enjoy this kinda uneventful filler chapter.

** Chapter 4: **

Alarms blare. Cal jolts awake, dashing towards his door. It slides open, revealing flashing red lights and an empty hallway.

 _What’s going on?_ He wonders. _This never happened before._

“Padawan, quickly!” Master Tapal calls, appearing down the hall. His blue lightsaber clashes with the red lights. Though his last word is drowned in the cry of the alarm, Cal gets the message.

Jaro Tapal turns down the hallway and disappears around the corner.

On stubby legs, Cal races after his Master. When he rounds the bend, a cry on his lips, it dies in his throat when he sees who’s down the corridor.

Dark cape. Iconic mask. Heavy breathing. The red lights shine on his helmet, making his appearance seem even more demonic.

 _Vader_.

Stumbling backwards, Cal manages to trip around the corner before Vader Force Chokes him. He reaches for his lightsaber as he rights himself but finds nothing. Despite himself, he is shocked. The lack of his trusty weapon has his heart beating so hard it hurts his chest.

However, the survivor within him doesn’t freeze. Instead, his legs propel him down the hall and around another corner. A red lightsaber digs through the end of the hallway’s metal wall. It would have dug into Cal’s back a second before.

Breathing hard, Cal sprints down the next hallway, hearing the red lightsaber being called back to its master’s hand.

He’s almost at the end when the Force wraps around his neck. _Shit, shit, shit!_ Is all he can think while he struggles to breathe, floating further from freedom as the former Jedi pulls him towards the Sith.

Falling into the depth of despair, he almost doesn’t hear a war cry in his ringing ears.

_Master?_

The Force holding him captive relents; Cal can feel his Master’s bright Force clashing with the darkness.

Yet, when he turns…when he turns Jaro Tapal is on the floor, gasping for breath.

“Master!” He screeches, racing up to him.

There are no flashing lights, no sirens, no imposing figure standing above them. It’s just them in the darkness just as it was many years before, Cal holding his Master and Tapal passing him his lightsaber in his last breath, telling him to, “Trust only in the Force.” But how can he? The Force has rebelled against him once more. Though it gave him this second chance, nothing has changed. There’s only a Jedi Knight in a Padawan’s body and a Sith Lord awakened years before he was supposed to.

It’s all one huge mess – worse than his former Galaxy. Everything he wished to change will never happen. Nothing he does matters.

Now, there’s only a deep black hole where his hopes in this second chance resided – and a question droning over and over in his head.

_What have I done?_

|-|

Train. Train and train and forget the dream, forget how deep that despair ran and how Tapal’s lifeless eyes stared into his soul. Forget it and focus, focus on anything else.

Except, there’s no focus. There’s only static in his head and a body that reacts without its master’s presence. Words flutter into his mind occasionally; he knows he answers back, but he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Doesn’t know what he’s doing. Doesn’t know how he’s acting.

Something about it is freeing. He doesn’t have to worry about anything here. Not even the freezing cold in his bones is his problem anymore; Vader can’t torment him here in the corners of his mind.

(He is careful of ignoring Vader’s mind reading capabilities.)

The outside world appears in flashes of colour and words and pressure. Cal knows his Master’s Force is wrapped around him today, blocking any attempts Vader has on his vulnerable soul. It’s a warm blanket compared to the ice-cold blood in his veins.

 _I can’t hide here forever_ , he thinks. _Not while Vader is approaching._

And it’s like the world suddenly contorts. One second, he’s hiding within his mind. The next, he’s there and focusing on eating mashed potatoes, finally present in his own body.

Blinking hard, he turns to where his Master sits on his left, eating the same meal of mashed potato, peas, and some kind of meat. The Lasat is bringing peas to his mouth when he sees Cal watching. A small smile hides behind his plastic fork. Taking time to centre himself, he watches his Master eat the green peas with slow and steady bites.

Cal turns back to his meal and eats some mashed potato. It’s easier then facing his Master. Besides, it isn’t horrible. Nostalgic memories surface, of eating this whenever he felt down.

A small smile tips the corner of his mouth. His Master has always known when to order him his favourite meal. Of course, Greez’s food is far superior, but…it’s nice to eat something from the past every now and then.

Thinking of Greez is like picking up a jagged fragment of a broken window. It digs into his fingers and bleeds, but the blood sparkles and runs down his finger in a single line. Painful, but pretty. Warm.

He’s not sure what thinking that says about him.

“Illum is only a few days away, my Padawan.” Voice rumbling, his Master’s sudden words make him start. “Have you confirmed your lightsaber design?”

Nodding, Cal swallows the lump in his throat. “Retractable cross-guard.” Simple and straightforward feels safer than not. He might say something he shouldn’t.

His Master hums in approval, shovelling another load of peas into his large mouth. While he chews, Cal wonders if his body is that of a regular Lasat. Maybe his mouth is slightly bigger, build more muscular, height a little taller. Cal doubts he’ll ever know, but hey. Maybe one day he’ll meet another Lasat.

Thinking of Merrin’s isolation on Dathomir, he wonders if his Master is lonely despite being surrounded by friends and obligations. The thought of his dead friend makes his mashed potatoes taste stale.

“A wise decision.” Jaro Tapal comments, staring straight ahead. “A cross-guard lightsaber can lead to accidental injuries if you’re not careful. Though it’s useful in single combat, it is not used often because of the high rate of user error.” Pausing, he brings a wad of mashed potato to the edge of his mouth. “I have seen a Jedi lose their hand to their cross guards.”

While he chews, Cal examines what his Master just said. The cross-guard lightsaber’s ability to play offensive in one-on-one combat is one of the reasons why he wanted the extra blades. Splitting a double lightsaber will allow him to have a cross-guard lightsaber in each hand, which will give him a totally different advantage in combat – not to mention skillset. Yet, using this addition will take some adjusting to his usual combat style.

“Tomorrow, you’ll practice with a wooden cross-guard lightsaber. I’d like you to experience it before you commit to your choice.” Finishing his plate, Tapal places his cutlery on his plate and pushes it away.

Cal can see the wisdom in his Master’s words. Nodding, he starts scraping the remnants of the potato on his plate. “Yes, Master.”

With nothing more needed to be said, Cal finishes his plate in silence and stacks it on Jaro Tapal’s, grabbing them with nostalgia. As a Padawan, he always used to take their plates back to the worker whenever his Master joined him for a meal. The Lasat’s presence was a rare occurrence, so Cal always tried to do what he could to impress him.

Thinking about it brings a smile to his face. Giving the used plates back to the worker at the cleaning bench, he says his thanks before walking back towards his Master, who now stands at the exit on the right. The silver benches and chairs shine in the artificial lights inside the roof; the quick glance reveals no other people in the room other than the workers, who are busy washing dishes and reheating food.

Without a word, they wander through the hallways. Cal thinks they’re heading back to the training room before they pass it, his Master not sparing it a glance. At his questioning look, Jaro Tapal relents. “We’re heading to your dorm, my Padawan.”

Cal isn’t sure he’s escorted him back to his room before. Upset Cal just ran to his room or sought out his Master’s wise words. He doesn’t think he had the capacity to hold his emotions in long enough for the Lasat to drag it out of him.

This probably isn’t anything Cal needs right now. Settling into his old body gives him enough headaches. Add in Vader, partial amnesia, and a worried Tapal, and…well. That’s mental chaos Cal would rather not dive into.

Biting his lip, Cal ends up tapping the tips of his fingers with his thumbs to try and distract himself. Up, down, up, down. The irregular rhythm reminds him of a song from his time on Bracca. Though the language is alien to him, Cal finds himself relaxing to the combination of lyrics, melodies and accompaniments flowing in his head.

Before he knows it, they’re standing inside his room, his Master ensuring the door is shut before he gestures to his bed. The sheets are curled and diagonally hanging off the side of the bed – a result of the nightmare that morning. With a quick apology, Cal races forwards and flattens it out so they can sit on it.

Tapal doesn’t say anything of it as he sits down on his right, closest to the door. Maybe proper room etiquette wasn’t part of his Jedi training, but Cal’s pretty sure it was something his Master taught him. Frustration builds in his chest when he tries to grasp the answer but touches nothing but laughing air.

“I’d like to speak to you about the Jedi Council Meeting.” Blinking, Cal nods, a little stunned. Did his Master ever discuss the Council’s meetings before? “They have issued a task to all Jedi in the area.” Hence why they’re talking about it. Okay. Maybe he was told the brief version of each meeting.

Jaro Tapal is silent for a while, looking down at his large hands clasped in his lap. In response, Cal shifts in his seat. Something about this is making the former Jedi Knight tense.

“There was a ripple in the Force three days ago.” Cal freezes. “The Council wants all Jedi to search for the cause.” Finally, his Master’s green eyes lift to scan Cal’s face. “And…my Padawan, I’d like to know if you know anything about it.”

Cal can’t do anything but breathe for a while. This is why his Master wanted privacy. He’s accusing him of causing a ripple in the Force. But…accusing isn’t the right word. It’s more like a careful prodding that oozes concern. Yet, that isn’t important. Three days ago, his younger self seized while his consciousness was replaced with an older and more experienced version of himself. He caused…

“A ripple?” Is exhaled, barely above a whisper. His arms feel dead.

A nod. “Yes. It happened when you were…preoccupied. I don’t expect you to know, but…”

 _But you need to ask._ Cal thinks. _The timing is more than a coincidence._

Cal knows he caused this ripple in the Force. But explaining that will take a while. In the end, it’s just an excuse to run from the truth and the coiling snake in his stomach.

Opening his mouth, Cal stays undecided. There’s so much to say. So much he needs to tell his Master. So much he can’t fix without him. However, the words catch in his throat. Revealing the future, Order 66, Tapal’s own death… Cal isn’t sure he can do it. Not when he earlier that morning, he thought his Master had died. Again.

Instead of revealing the truth, he swallows and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Master, but I don’t know.”

 _Weak._ The darkness inside of him snarls, a chill settling in his gut. _Coward._

A hand is placed on his shoulder, warm and comforting. “It’s fine, Padawan.”

But they both know the truth. One from experience, the other from their apprentice’s blatant lie. Cal definitely knows what the ripple in the Force was and he hates that he can’t bring himself to reveal what he knows.

Standing, his Master walks over to the doors, stopping in the middle of the room. He turns his head and opens his mouth. For a few moments, he says nothing. “Sleep well, Padawan. You will need your rest for tomorrow’s lesson.” With that, he exits the room, doors opening and closing quietly. Blocking him off from the person he cares about.

Much like his false answer.

Cal lays in bed that night wondering if he made the right choice.

|-|

The Force flows through him like a calm ocean, stretching across the galaxy as he meditates.

Concentrating, he searches the sea of blue, red, and grey. Millions of emotions bare down on his mind as his Force flies from one galaxy to the next, but they are gone when he exhales.

Countless minutes, hours, even days blend together until he sees a peculiar sight within the Force. One he’s never seen before.

A fizzling golden line wavers in the Force, almost like wool in how the many strands of the golden line are fuzzy and fluffy. It seems like the line is shaky and ill-woven, as if the connection between the two objects has been hastily created and possibly rejected.

When he backs out and finds the ends of this connection, he sees how the gold wraps around two figures like a barrier. On one end, the gold comfortingly nuzzles a conflicted blue blur. The other squeezes the dominating red blur into submission.

It’s surreal, nothing he’s ever seen before. Something to be watched – especially with how the red is steadily getting closer to the blue. Even if he wished to see their identities, the Force surrounding them denies it, growling at the intruding Jedi Master. The Force does not yet wish for their names to be known.

So, he retreats.

Breaking his connection with the Force, Jedi Master Yoda opens his eyes. “Protected by the Force, they are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any confusion, but the dream at the start was deliberately not italicised because Cal himself believed it to be real. Also for some tension on my behalf, haha. 
> 
> Have a wonderful week, and stay safe!
> 
> ~ BP2


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cal practices the cross-guard lightsaber with his Master. They are interrupted by unexpected visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The waits aren't acceptable, I know. It was so long I got comments for it, and I apologise. My attention-span for writing the same story has grown shorter as I've gotten older. 
> 
> This time, I won't make any promises for updates. We'll just see when the next chapter comes out. 
> 
> On another note, if you have a PS4 and like Final Fantasy, I totally recommend playing Final Fantasy VII Remake. Stella game. :)
> 
> EDIT 1: Changed name from Chapter 6 to Chapter 5. Title may change to Act 1, Chapter 5 in the future.

**Chapter 5:**

Practicing with the cross-guard lightsaber is fun. This is new, these weapon skills are gloriously new, and it has Cal’s heart leaping like an excited animal. Throwing the wooden lightsaber lookalike at his Master is indescribable. And even when it is deflected and the sharp tip of the right cross-guard cuts the edge of his wrist, Cal is content.

Cal hasn’t felt this relaxed and happy since dropping into the past. The challenge of mastering a new skill has always gotten his blood pumping. Changing his style to suit this blade is only igniting the survivor spirit within him. Nothing will contain his excited determination.

A light Force Push has the former Jedi Knight stumbling back a few steps, ensuring his attention refocuses on his Master’s outstretched hand. “Focus, Padawan.”

“Yes, Master!” He responds, before charging with a yell. Four days in and Cal still finds his adolescent body awkward. It should take five steps to reach his Master, not ten, and his arms should be much longer. Stronger, too. As his wooden lightsaber clashes with Master Tapal’s, Cal can feel the strength in his arms giving way to the raw power of the Lasat.

His Master has been using more force than usual. Last time, he allowed Cal to push back. Today, he stands his ground and bares down on the Padawan, forcing Cal to dodge and retreat.

There’s a lesson to be learnt here. The question is what.

As he’s shoved back when going for an overhead strike, his Master finally starts teaching. “Strength is not always the way, my Padawan.” Jumping, he raises higher than Cal could ever hope to achieve in one jump. Maybe two, if he timed it right. “Lasat’s are known for their strength; you will be unlikely to overpower one in combat.” Twirling his own lightsaber in his hand, Jaro Tapal skilfully avoids cutting himself on the cross guard. “Even their agility is difficult to overcome.” To make his point, Tapal dashes across the room with just the muscles in his legs. Cal could only hope to dash like that with the Force’s help.

“Then what do I do, Master?” He asks in pure Padawan fashion, thinking back to his fights with the Ninth and Second Sister. While the Ninth Sister focused on strength alone, Trilla used her agility to outplay her opponents. Cal adapted to their styles, but facing an enemy with both their overwhelming strength and agility? No. And without help, he doubts he’d be able to take them down, either. Even with his adapting style, Cal…isn’t sure. Speed and strength as one…just the thought makes his throat clench.

Master Tapal settles in front of him, wooden lightsaber pointed at the floor. “You use your wits, my Padawan. In fights like those, you use unconventional methods. The environment, potential weaknesses…you find your own way to victory.” There’s an unsettling look in his Master’s eyes as he focuses on Cal. “If you meet such an opponent, do not hesitate to flee. Your life is worth more alive than dead.”

There’s nothing he can say but “Yes, Master.”

“Good.” A nod, before he settles into a stance, legs apart, arms forward, saber ready to attack and defend. “Now, today’s lesson is about fighting a stronger opponent. Use your agility to work past my defences.”

 _So, freestyle with a goal._ _Okay_. It still makes Cal uneasy, not knowing what he should and shouldn’t know, so… _I’ll work with the simple skills, then. Like dashing, a singular overhead strike, and sidestepping. And maybe work with the cross-guards, too._

Decision made, he, too, settles into a stance, the same one Tapal uses except his wooden lightsabre is pointing diagonally at the ceiling, not straight up.

His Master makes no adjustments, waiting for Cal to attack. For a few moments, he watches Tapal, eyeing his strong stance. _No visible weak points except for his back. I’d need to sidestep to get at his sides…_ Facing his Master always makes him think hard, especially when his Master gives him ample time to think in class. _Just start. Improvise._ Cal’s never been a great thinker, anyway. Too much anxiety and stress. Like his Master said before the Order: “you work best when you improvise.”

One more moment of staring. Two. Then Cal is dashing, lightsaber raised in an overhead strike. As expected, Tapal blocks, pushing upward fast enough to have Cal stumbling back a few paces.

While Cal is regaining his balance, his Master attacks. A sideways swing targeting his left side. There’s nothing he can do but gather his power in a Force Push that sends Tapal back a couple steps. Composed, but halted. Enough time for Cal to have his feet firmly beneath him.

“Good.” Jaro Tapal praises, before rushing him. It’s not too fast or too slow. Definitely an overhead swing he has time to block.

Yet, it leaves his side open. Sidestepping at the last moment, Cal swings his lightsaber-

-only for Tapal to change trajectory. The shift allowed Cal to recalculate and block it the second before it hit, but the power behind his Master’s strike has the former Jedi Knight flying a couple feet. Landing hard on his back, the breath in Cal’s lungs escapes in a painful rush, leaving him winded.

An older Cal would’ve been able to take that hit, but that Cal had muscle from years of scrapping and climbing. This Cal is young. Hasn’t yet filled out or built the strength he formed in the Clone Wars.

That’ll change. The Jedi Knight – the survivor – within him won’t allow that to stand. In the face of incoming danger, Cal will build the muscle he lost. For himself and for everybody he wishes to protect.

It takes a couple seconds for his battered body to climb to its feet. His Master waits patiently, nodding when he sets himself into his previous stance. “A Jedi always gets up.” If that isn’t approval, Cal doesn’t know what is. “Try again.”

Giving him no second to contemplate his Padawan’s potential moves, Cal uses a Force Dash. Yet, his Master manages to block the sideways swing once again. It’s okay, though; Cal allows his wooden lightsabre to dip right and sidesteps. His Master’s lightsabre slips off the blade and leaves Cal’s charging to his stomach-

A Force Push sends him sliding backwards. “Using my own power against me…well done.” A small smile graces his lips as Jaro Tapal gets back into a defensive position. “But you’re holding back.”

That makes Cal freeze. It shouldn’t have been obvious. He hasn’t hesitated or anything. Just using his wits and simple skills. Nothing too noticeable.

And yet, his Master knows he isn’t giving his all. Isn’t using every move in his arsenal.

Before Cal’s breath can start to quicken, Master Tapal sends him a comforting smile. “I won’t punish you for learning new moves behind my back, Cal. In fact, I’m quite happy to coach you through them.” His eyes narrow. “Unless they’re advanced moves above your level…”

“Uh…” Gulping, Cal distantly remembers hacking into his Datapad and finding some attacks too taxing on his mind and body during the Clone Wars. Needless to say, his Master was quick to confiscate it for a couple months after he found out. “No, these are…good moves.” Voice shaking a little, the former Jedi Knight knows it doesn’t sound convincing. After all, some of his moves are advanced – they’re just moves he can’t use with this wooden lightsaber.

Taking a long moment to grieve the loss of his previous lightsaber, Cal watches Jaro Tapal sigh. “If you can perform them, I’ll allow you to keep practicing.” That’s…a lot better than he thought. Last time, his Master scolded him proper and didn’t allow him to practice them. This time, however…

 _He’s letting me test them out…okay…okay. I can do this. Pick some more advanced moves from my pool and…test them. Right._ Getting into his former stance, he exhales a long breath, releasing the tension from his muscles. _Nothing incriminating, just…a step-up from newbie Padawan_. Cal smiles. _Oh, let’s face it. I’m gonna stuff up at some point. Let’s just…go with it._

It’s like he’s releasing more than tension when he exhales another, longer breath. More like his Force is buzzing around him, an echo of the Jedi Knight who fought beside Cere and Merrin and Greez. Cal can even feel the ghost of BD-1 on his shoulder. It hurts more than it should, but he forces himself not to close up again. This is who he is. He needs to let go of the past and just accept this is his new reality.

Starting with showing his Master all he learnt in the past-future.

Geez, Cal already knows it’s going to be a confusing mess of a tale.

Jaro Tapal shifts stances. Out of the rock wall he intended to teach and into a more versatile stance, right foot back and lightsaber pointed up, gripped tight in his dominant hand. This will allow him to use the Force and swing if need be.

A light smirk lifting the corner of his lips, Cal adjusts his own stance into a more carefree one. Lightsaber pointed at the floor, one foot slightly behind the other. It’s an unpredictable position that will allow Cal to start the battle a number of different ways. Including sprinting at his Master.

Something flashes through Tapal’s eyes but is gone before Cal can identify it. He doesn’t move, though. Just stands there and waits for him to make the first move.

And he will right-

Ice cold grips him, a vice that makes his heart throb. It sends a small gasp through his lips, left hand already grabbing the white fabric above his heart. His Force expands, taking Cal away from his body. Through the doors, down multiple hallways, past a couple Padawans and their Masters, into the landing bay-

There. Right there. Getting off a small ship with a bright blue glow – a Jedi Master. The tangled red and gold aura behind him is subdued and masked in a thin illusion of blue, but that does nothing to prevent Cal from seeing his true nature.

It’s Vader. And he’s on the Albedo Brave.

His Force rushes back to his body, and Cal is left staring at the wall on his right, feeling the only enemy he couldn’t defeat greet the crew in the landing bay. It’s so strong he can practically see an outline of his wavy golden-red aura through the metal walls that separate them.

A warm hand is on his face. “Cal, talk to me.” It sounds distant despite the former Jedi Knight knowing the worried voice is right beside him.

Yet, this aura is so consuming, freezing his entire being-

“He’s here.” Cal mumbles, shaking, before blinking. _Snap out of it._

Inhaling a sharp breath, he exhales slower, trying to set a pace he can follow that isn’t wild and uncontrolled. Closing his eyes helps, but it still takes a couple tries before he’s breathing evenly again. Out of the panic attack before it really began.

His Master’s hand is on his shoulder when he opens his eyes, green eyes patient and worried. Yet, he waits a couple moments before he asks if he’s alright. “Yeah, I…” Hanging his head, Cal looks back over to the wall. Vader feels closer, aura a little larger. “I think…”

Gulping, Cal shakes his head. The monster of a man is right here, in the same ship as him. And that’s terrifying when recalling his dream and what happened the last time they were on the same ship together.

Grip tightening on his shoulder, Cal looks up at his Master’s kneeling form, staring deep into his green orbs. “Who’s here, Cal?”

His throat tightens. Just thinking his name sends shivers run up his spine. “Uh-”

The release of the training door opening has both their heads snapping to the intruder. It’s Tali, hand on the door, panting like she’s run through the entire ship. “Master Tapal, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan, Anakin Skywalker are here to see you.”

Jaro Tapal looks at Cal, expression as unreadable as stone, before nodding at Tali. “Thank you. Tell them to wait in the meeting room.”

Nodding, she accepts his Master’s orders. “Yes, Master Tapal!” She glances at Cal’s position on the floor for a moment before leaving, door sliding closed behind her.

For a few moments, there’s silence. Cal recognises the glazed look in his Master’s eyes – the same look he got the moment Order 66 occurred. Deep within the Force, consciousness following a trail Cal cannot see. It gives the former Jedi Knight time to settle his wild thoughts on Master Obi-Wan Kenobi being in the same ship as him. Most of the excitement is tamed by Vader’s presence, but still- Obi-Wan Kenobi!

Now that he’s heard his name, – both their names – Cal can feel hazy memories resurface. Of a Jedi propaganda poster, Cal blatantly telling his Master he wants to be just like Kenobi, and the message Cere showed Cal when he first boarded the Mantis.

_“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen…”_

A couple seconds later, his Master remerges from the Force, blinking once before settling his imposing gaze on his Padawan. “You sensed them enter the ship?”

Feeling a little uncomfortable, Cal shrinks in on himself, averting his gaze. “Uh- yeah.” One of them, anyway. Is it important that it’s the one he’s connected to in the Force? Probably. Though not as important as how evil Darth Vader is.

Though – it really bothers him, how Darth Vader is Skywalker. Who was so famous in the Clone Wars for-

Trying to remember why makes his head split. It’ll likely come to him in time – when it’s too late to do anything about, if his luck rears its deformed head – so waiting is all he can do. Which the restless part of him hates, but there’s nothing he can do. Maybe he’ll force it later, in the safety of his quarters.

Musing on his answer, his Master rubs his chin. His gaze is distant for only a moment before he really looks at Cal, taking him in. Not just his body, but his Force, too. Cal can just tell that he’s analysing all of him. It makes the Padawan want to stand tall and shrink into himself simultaneously.

“I want you to come with me,” Tapal says slowly, thinking on the fly. Still, his green orbs are watching him, sparking with an emotion he cannot name. “To meet our guests. I believe you will benefit from the knowledge and skills they possess.”

Already Cal’s heart is speeding up to however fast a ship moves when jumping. Cal would believe it’s going at light speed, with how his heart is pounding so hard it hurts.

No, Cal doesn’t want to go. Him, benefitting from this meeting? Fuck that. This has Darth Vader’s influence written all over it and he doesn’t want to fall for an obvious trap.

“Uh…” Cal starts, words not quite forthcoming. Head feeling like wool, he tries again. “It’s fine, Master. I’m happy practicing here.”

Narrowed eyes are aimed at his shaky words. Probably what it deserves, but Cal isn’t going to meet them. As in _will not_. He isn’t ready yet. Not when last time they met in person, Vader killed his family. His world.

And doesn’t that fill him with a rage Jedi shouldn’t possess. Emotions lead to the Dark Side, after all. So why does he let himself feel this grief and rage and loss? Why does his Master allow him to feel this pain?

“It’s not a request, Padawan.” His voice is firm. For a while there, Cal forgot how Tapal’s scolding voice sounded like. The boy Cal was wouldn’t have, but the adult lost him a long time ago. And forced himself to forget. To protect himself from the pain.

Thinking of this isn’t helping, but the former Jedi Knight can’t stop feeling the tightness in his chest. Especially since that’s the voice of someone who will enforce an order, and Cal isn’t skilled enough to contest it.

But…should he anyway? Cal’s faced people stronger than himself. Quicker, too. Yet, he’s emerged victorious. Why not try once more? The cause is worthy enough.

“I…” Cal starts, intent on at least being stubborn, when ice slides down his spine.

Much to his horror, the cold is far sharper and icy than Vader’s other connections. The stronger link that’s sparked between them allow Cal to pinpoint the former Jedi’s position-

Snapping his head to the door, Cal tenses when it slides open a second later, hissing like it’s threatening the one opening it.

In the doorway stands an irked Obi-Wan Kenobi, frowning at the tall brunet in front of him. The teenager, who’s to Master Kenobi’s left, smirks at Cal, eyes predatory, and the former Jedi Knight knows, without a doubt, that this is Obi-Wan’s Padawan.

Darth Vader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if the ending seems rushed. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments, and sorry if I haven't responded to some people's. I'll try and get there, but no promises.
> 
> I hope you all have a wonderful couple months, since that's how long this will probably take (I read too much Fanfiction. I'm really sorry).
> 
> Stay safe!
> 
> ~ BP2


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan observes Anakin and Cal’s interactions and chats with Jaro Tapal. Until the fight, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, my only excuse is that I've been busy and unmotivated. Also, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I'm sorry. 
> 
> This was meant to come out yesterday, but it didn't happen. 
> 
> So, I dedicate this chapter to a HOPEFULLY BETTER year. And as a celebration because WE SURVIVED 2020. 
> 
> (Also, thank you to everyone that has reviewed, including the more recent ones. You kicked my writing butt back into gear and I will be forever grateful.)

** Chapter 6: **

Obi-Wan Kenobi is displeased. Despite being told to wait in the hall while the Padawan went to find Master Tapal, Anakin decided it’d be fun to explore the ship instead. He should’ve known his Padawan’s curiosity would get the better of him, but he hoped it would be different this time. Especially when on another ship.

Now, standing beside his eager Padawan, Obi-Wan huffs a loud breath. “I apologise for the intrusion, Master Tapal. My Padawan decided to run off instead of staying put like I asked.” The last words are laced with criticism, one the Jedi Master hopes has breached Anakin’s thick skull.

However, when he glances at him, expecting an ashamed apology, he instead finds the Padawan staring intently at a young redhead – Tapal’s Padawan, no doubt. The boy is pale and small beside Tapal’s bulky, standing frame. His grip on the wooden cross-guard lightsaber – interesting choice – is loose; Obi-Wan observes that the tremors in his arms are making the weapon shake. Though a Padawan usually bows to respect another Master, this one stands stock-still, staring at Anakin like he’s a hungry predator and the redhead is just a tiny herbivore.

Obi-Wan watches this staring contest for a few uncertain moments, sensing how the Force in the room is thick with tension. When he turns to the other Padawan’s Master, they share a look. Anakin is usually open and happy, but lately he’s been a bit standoffish, often going on his own whim and ignoring Kenobi’s orders. If Tapal’s glance suggests anything, his Padawan is experiencing a similar issue.

“Not at all, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. We were just about to come to you.” Tapal bows in greeting and places a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. It seems to snap the boy out of it, because he blinks and turns to Kenobi, bowing lower than his Master with a muttered welcome. “This is Cal Kestis, my Padawan.”

Nodding, Obi-Wan follows suit. “This is my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker.” With a small smirk, he tilts his head so he can see the now smug look on the teenager’s face. “Though, I doubt for much longer.”

The Jedi Master expects a fond smile from the boy, but only gets rolled eyes and a huffed breath. It only highlights the foul mood he’s sported the last few days.

Though he wants to tell Anakin to loosen up, Obi-Wan doubts it would go down well, especially in the presence of company. So, he instead turns back to his fellow Jedi Master and their Padawan – Cal – who has taken shelter behind Tapal’s tall frame. A shy one, that boy. Perhaps Anakin might help him exit his shell…though, with his simmering rage lately ( _it’s against the Jedi Code! Dangerous!_ ), that may end poorly.

“Why don’t we go eat in the cafeteria?” Jaro Tapal suggests while his telepathy probes at his mental barrier. Letting it in, Obi-Wan is greeted with a warm, friendly essence that settles on the corner of his mind so the other Jedi Master doesn’t intrude on his thoughts and feelings. “ _I thought it might be appropriate to talk about our Padawan’s there where they’re in sight.”_ The Lasat continues, not needing to address his concern about them being alone together. After all, Obi-Wan feels the same way.

Nodding respectfully, he grabs his Padawan by the arm, a smile hiding the dark frown he wants to give his Padawan. “Yes, that sounds wonderful.” Though there is some resistance, Obi-Wan forces Anakin to follow him when he turns and pulls him along.

Heading to the wall opposite of the now open training room doors, the Jedi Master turns to the Lasat. “Lead the way.”

A small nod is given before the purple Jedi Master walks ahead, hands set firmly on his Padawan’s shoulders so he walks in front of him. The wooden cross-guard lightsabres must have been left in the training room, for both their hands are now free.

Letting go of his Padawan’s hand as they pass, Obi-Wan turns and gives Anakin a disapproving stare. “Behave.” Is all he says, stressing the word, _pleading_ , before following the other Jedi Master. _That’s all I ask._

|-|

“Go sit with Anakin, Cal.” Tapal orders with a soft tone when they finally enter the cafeteria, pointing at the seat Obi-Wan’s Padawan has strolled to. It’s furthest away from the exits, hugging the corner of the ship’s walls.

The distraught whirlwind of emotion that the redheaded boy emits at his Master’s words would be enough to cripple a Jedi Knight. Though the white noise does not send him to his knees, Obi-Wan Kenobi is surprised nonetheless at the push in the Force around him as it responds to Cal’s horror.

It’s halted as quickly as it started when Jaro Tapal places a comforting hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. Kenobi’s had enough experience with young Padawan’s to know that the Jedi Master is saying more in the privacy of their conjoined minds. Though it is not his preferred style, Obi-Wan understands that it is necessary to calm Force-Sensitives quickly – especially ones as unnaturally powerful as Cal.

Dropping his head, the boy sighs. “Yes, Master.” Then he’s off, dragging his feet towards Anakin’s location at a miserable pace.

Both Master’s watch him go for a few seconds, Obi-Wan noting how his Padawan is staring hungrily at the approaching boy. If he were to dive into the Force now, he knows he would sense the same aggressive waves snapping off the teen’s soul that has been present for the last few days.

A storm of thoughts and emotions that are eerily similar to Cal’s…

Slowly sitting down one of the chairs at the table closest to the doors, Kenobi squints so he can see the life force around him. It’s a hurricane of blue from the redhead, a storm of grey from Anakin. There’s something between them, an ancient essence that Kenobi cannot see through Cal’s whirlwind. Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi tries to look past his Force-

“I sense your Padawan has been unnaturally aggressive lately.” Tapal starts, forcing Kenobi to blink out of his trance and focus on the Lasat sitting across from him. “Is it recent?”

Nodding, Obi-Wan wipes his brow in frustration. Disorientated from the being thrown out of the makeshift meditation, it takes him a moment to respond. “Yes. Very. Ever since I saw him a couple day’s ago, he’s been like this.”

Chin in one of his large purple hands, Jaro Tapal hums. “It’s similar to Cal.” Kenobi gives him a questioning look. “He’s been different since the Force Ripple, too.”

 _That’s right…I didn’t see Anakin until after the Force Ripple. Could he be affected from it, too?_ Aloud, Obi-Wan offers more information. “Maybe Anakin knew that. He was insistent on coming here.” Thinking back to five minutes before, the Jedi Master shakes his head. “And he was staring at your Padawan the whole walk here.”

Lifting his head, Master Tapal leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. It squeaks in distress. “I can sense his malicious intent towards my Padawan even now. It’s odd, though.” Looking up at the ceiling, the Lasat frowns. “Underneath all that aggression is joy.”

“Joy?” Obi-Wan exclaims, blinking. It’s the first time in a while that he’s been reminded that his mastery of his Force does not include many of those in the mental branch. His is far more focused on discipline, tactics, and emotional control. However, he does forget that there are those like Master Tapal who have full control of their mind and can therefore sense far more in terms of emotion than Obi-Wan.

An affirmative noise escapes the Master’s throat. “It’s difficult to sense, but it is there.” Opening his eyes, he gives Obi-Wan a grave stare. “That type of emotion is dangerous, Master Kenobi.”

Fighting the urge to sink into his seat, Kenobi sighs. “‘There is no emotion, there is peace.’” He quotes, “‘there is no chaos, there is harmony _.’_ ” Pinching his nose, he sighs again. It feels like he’s been sighing a lot, these days. “I know. It’s just…”

 _Difficult. Exhausting. Painful._ There’s too many words in his head to describe what the last few days have been like. What talking to Anakin has felt like. _What happened to us?_ He asks himself. _What made him so distant? So…angry?_

The screech of a chair snaps Kenobi from his thoughts. “I’ll get us some food.” Master Jaro Tapal offers, moving so he’s standing behind his chair. It’s likely that the other Jedi sensed his troubled musings. “Is there anything you’d like in particular?”

“Ah, no, thank you. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Turning, the Master walks towards the cafeteria staff. Kenobi watches him go; observes how he looks at his Padawan to see how he’s doing.

Notes how he stops in his tracks, how his right hand automatically moves towards his lightsabre.

How the Force erupts behind Obi-Wan’s back.

“I won’t let you!” Cal screams, and Master Kenobi turns to see the boy standing, chair crashing to the floor. “Not again! Not ever again!”

And, to his amazement, the redhead dives over the table in an attempt to grab Anakin.

His Padawan Force Pushes him away, but Cal flips in mid-air and lands on the bolted metal table behind him, using the edge to propel himself back at the Chosen One. Hand raised, the younger Padawan uses the Force to grab a chair from a neighbouring table and throw it at Anakin.

That’s when Obi-Wan finally moves to intercept.

Except, it’s Jaro Tapal that stops everything. Hands outstretched, an eye closed, the Jedi Master uses his telekinesis to halt the fight before it escalates any further. Cal is floating in mid-air. Anakin is standing, lightsabre in hand but deactivated. The chair is an inch from Obi Wan’s Padawan’s head.

“Stop.” The Lasat commands, looking at both Padawans before settling on Kestis, struggling against the power of his Master’s telekinesis. “You’re making a scene.”

Except, it’s not the scene he’s worried about. Sure, the cafeteria staff are staring and will undoubtedly gossip, but it’s more the cyclone of emotions that are seeping off the young Padawan that has their attention. Obi-Wan can sense pain, grief, and anger the strongest. But…also love, buried underneath it all.

This does not bode well. Not for a Jedi in training.

The worst thing is that Anakin started this, made the boy spiral into these forbidden emotions, and that worries Obi-Wan Kenobi most of all.

“Anakin, we’re leaving.” He announces, Force Pulling the teenager to his side. Turning to the other Jedi Master, Obi-Wan bows. “I apologise for my Padawan’s actions, Master Tapal. He will be punished.” A pause, then: “ _We’ll talk more another time._ ” The last sentence is pushed through the Force to the Lasat. When Jaro Tapal nods, he knows the other has received his message.

“I, too, apologise.” Nothing more needs to be said. After all, they know what it’s for.

Obi-Wan waits a moment, watching Tapal set the thrown chair back where it was before placing his Padawan back on the floor. There’s no need for the telekinesis anymore. After all, the redhead is now a wall of fear, guilt, and grief, sitting on the floor with his head in his knees.

When Master Kenobi looks at his Padawan, the teenager is smirking. An emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time rises in his gut.

 _There is no emotion, there is peace._ He chants until it leaves. It’s troubling that it took more than ten seconds.

With one last bow, Obi-Wan leaves the cafeteria, dragging his Padawan along with him.

|-|

Later, when Anakin is asleep on their ship and Obi-Wan is in the pilot seat, he worries over two things.

One: what the emergence of that dark emotion means, and,

Two: what is wrong with his Padawan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you people who have been waiting for over 6 months enjoyed some...tension. Angst. And - drama. 
> 
> I tried to use metaphors and expand on them. I think I failed. 
> 
> If I've made any mistakes, feel free to tell me. Because Obi-Wan Kenobi. Enough said. 
> 
> Who knows when the next chapter is coming out. I'm invested into Stardew Valley, so... Imma go play that now.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be infrequent and are purely based on how I feel at the time. However, my heart is in this novel right now, so you can expect another chapter soon. [Please don't hold me to that]
> 
> If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask.
> 
> Have a nice day/night, everyone!


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